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MAX FAWCETT Special to Globe and Mail Update Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Today, on campuses and in front of legislatures across the country, students will be protesting against the cost of postsecondary education and demanding a freeze in tuition rates. If you care about their issues and sympathize with their plight, you shouldn't listen to a word they say. The idea that there is a direct and proportional relationship between tuition fees and the plight of Canada's postsecondary students is well entrenched in our national consciousness. A decade of fiery speeches delivered by politicians, public protests organized by student groups and withering editorials printed in newspapers across the country has conditioned most Canadians to believe tuition increases are direct attacks on the welfare of students and their families. There are few figures in society more despicable than the child molester, but a supporter of higher tuition fees could give him a run for his money these days. According to supporters of low tuition fees, increases invariably come out of the pockets of students, but the facts tell a much different story. The misunderstanding begins, as they often do, with confused language. Tuition is almost always referred to as a fee, but it acts — at least, it can — as a redistributive tax. An example is what happens at Ivy League schools in the United States, where students pay full cost for their education and tuition fees are approximately $40,000 (Canadian) a year. By charging full price for a student's education — soaking the rich kids, to borrow Macleans columnist Paul Wells's wording — Ivy League schools are able to redistribute a substantial percentage of those funds into bursaries and grants more generous than anything a Canadian university could possibly provide. The University of Toronto's Faculty of Law has already cottoned on this concept by raising tuition to $20,000 a year and redistributing the funds into both a higher quality of education
for the students and massive grants — free tuition, in certain cases — for students who can't otherwise attend. The rest of Canada's postsecondary tuition structure is positively Republican in comparison, subsidizing richer students and punishing their poorer classmates. While the federal and provincial governments devote a shade under $1-billion each year to need-based scholarships and grants, it spends approximately $10-billion in the form of provincial transfers to colleges and universities as well as federal tax transfers to individuals on a per-student basis. In other words, for every dollar that the government dedicates to needy students, it spends 10 in a way that fails to differentiate between a student with deep pockets and one who has holes in them. In essence, reducing tuition is like cutting taxes for the rich. There is also a parallel confusion surrounding the concept of accessibility. Student advocates and politicians often trot out accessibility as a reason, a priori, that tuition fees must be suppressed, but that ignores its multidimensional nature. There's no question that taken on their own, high fees discourage students who come from poorer families from accessing postsecondary education. But just as it is unjust to deny students the opportunity to pursue postsecondary education because they cannot afford it, it is equally unjust to prevent students from pursuing an education because they are effectively being rationed out. That's what happens in a lowfunding, low-tuition framework; as costs rise and funding remains fixed, institutions are forced to reduce the number of spaces available to students in order to balance their budget. For example, UBC president Martha Piper has mused that she'd like to create 30,000 more spaces but cannot find the funding thanks largely to a tuition freeze that was only recently lifted. In Nova Scotia, where tuition fees have been allowed to rise, student spaces are much more widely available. While financially disadvantaged students can take out a loan to pay for education, students who are unable to satisfy their university's increasingly unreasonable entrance requirements — the means of rationing the student spaces — have no such recourse. Don't get me wrong here. I think that students bear an outrageous burden and our political leaders, obsessed with placating the massive cohort of aging Baby Boomers who are more interested in accessibility to hip replacements than postsecondary
education, are being stupefyingly shortsighted. But I wouldn't exactly hold my breath on these same politicians suddenly realizing that the key to Canada's future prosperity lies not in throwing money at our health-care system but instead in providing substantial and sustainable funding for education. In the meantime, our universities and colleges continue to cut corners, delay necessary investments and reduce student spaces in order to make ends meet. We're sacrificing both the quality of the postsecondary experience and quantity of these experiences available in order to satisfy the under-informed vision of social justice espoused by the low-tuition gang. Student debt and tuition fees are separate issues that have been conflated for too long. While high student debt is a social injustice that demands redress, low tuition fees have become a sacred cow, an idea that is both fraught with logical inconsistencies, yet utterly uncontestable. It's time we send it to slaughter. Max Fawcett, 26, a veteran of New Democratic and Liberal election campaigns, is a contributing editor at Dooneyscafe.com, a Toronto-based news website.